Cold
by bluskysfrompane
Summary: Logan tries to work out his thoughts sometime after the season finale aboout his own life. He is lonely and tired as he measures out his life, calculating its importance.
1. Cold

It's funny how pain works he mused to himself as he laid on the floor shirtless and drunk. The tiles were ice cold from the air conditioning and Logan loved the feel of them. It was a tremendous sensation as the tiles drained the heat from his body, taking, always taking, and leaving him there with nothing. Nothing but the chills, which were hardly discernible from the blanket of frigid air that had wrapped itself around both his body and his life. The icebox that was his life had managed to leave him all alone, with only his nightmares for company and it had also left him afraid. Afraid of what he was and what he was becoming and just simply afraid to live. The icebox had failed at only one thing. It failed to numb Logan from the emotions that were consuming him.

He felt every pinprick of pain and guilt. Each jab to his heart, which for the most part were aimed with his own hand, left him in a deeper anguish and desperation. He had tried to gasp for air, but it had hurt too much to breathe and eventually he just let his misery pull him under, into a dark, lonely, abysmal pit. He had given up, called it quits.

He was frequently visited in his nightmares by incessant reminders in the form of an ashtray, an empty room, or the most troubling, a woman's hand that he kept trying to grab a hold of but kept fading away under his fingers. Maybe it was Lily's hand manifesting his unreturned feelings for her. Maybe it was Veronica's hand, reaching out for him, trying to pull him out of the emotional abyss that he found himself in. Maybe it belonged to Trina, her sad excuse for a goodbye before being whisked off on another trip by another boyfriend lacking any sign of personality or depth. Or maybe it was his mother's hand, soft and fragile, trying to comfort her son again, trying unsuccessfully to heal the wounds that would never heal for they were too deep and too fatal.

Logan remained, as thoughts ran through his head, languishing on the floor, letting the tile reap whatever little was left of him from his tired body. He had his fingers tightly wrapped around the neck of the bottle in his hand, as if it too would leave him. He took another big swig of alcohol letting the vodka swim down his throat, hoping it would numb the pain even if for just a minute, but it too failed him. The substance that he had deemed so vital for his survival now pooled on the floor from where the excess had spilled over his lips and down his cheeks to the floor. He pondered wiping the sticky liquid off his face but quickly chased the idea away after he concluded that it only made him feel colder... closer to the 'emotional void', that he was aspiring to be.

Logan guzzled down the last of the bottle's contents, making sure this time not to spill down his cheeks for this was the last of the vodka and he didn't want to waste a drop, fearing that the one drop he did miss might be the one drop that had the ability to numb him and he didn't want to miss that. After the final trickle of alcohol had been sucked out of the bottle Logan absentmindedly threw it and was satisfied when he heard the shattering of glass echoing throughout the empty house, filling every corner with a false livelihood.

Wearily and a bit unsteadily Logan pulled himself to his feet, reaching out with his hand to grasp the marble counter. When he was somewhat composed on his feet he walked, rather staggered, his way into the living room where he decided after the long walk of a whole twenty feet he needed a break and he fell onto the couch. Nuzzling his nose, the only part of his body that was beginning to grow somewhat numb, into the fabric of the couch he took a deep breath immediately regretting it.

He could smell the sweet, sugary scent of lemonade and immediately his mind raced back eight years when Trina had spilt it on the couch. Logan remembered that beating particularly well. He remembered how immediately Trina had pointed a pink polished finger in Logan's direction when Aaron asked who had spilt the lemonade. Logan remembered denying the claim. Logan remembered how Aaron had laughed when the leather snapped against the raw skin of his back and laughed still further when he punched Logan in the stomach and Logan doubled over in pain. Logan remembered how his mother had secretly nursed his wounds after Aaron had fallen into a drunk stupor on the couch and he remembered that that was the first of many nights that hid mom had forgotten to kiss him goodnight.

Logan sat up quickly trying to rid himself of the memory and walked over to the mantle, only after his trip to the liquor cabinet, snatching another bottle of liquor. He picked up his mother's urn and he slowly started to stumble his way up the stairs. At the top he went left down the hall and walked into his parents' room, probably the coldest room in the house, if not in temperature than certainly in the morbid atmosphere it possessed.

He walked into the bathroom and sat himself on the edge of the giant tub, holding his mother's urn out in front of him, cradled in his fingers. He gently placed the awkwardly shaped piece of glass and the bottle of Peppermint Schnapps on the edge of the basin and stepped carefully into the tub, lying down feeling the marble chill the scars on his back. When he was situated he reached a shaky hand out and quickly opened the bottle of peppermint support, wrapping his lips around the brim and taking a good long drink before finally placing it back on the side of the tub.

Finally Logan slowly picked up his mother's urn. He pressed the cold glass against his lips, kissing it before abruptly swinging his arm towards the wall of the tub and shattering the urn that had been made by bloody, brutal hands against the edge of the tub. Pieces of the glass were scattered in the tub, and some were strewn across the granite floor where they clinked and echoed until finally coming to a halt. Sea water sloshed into the tub and down the drain, but some of it managed to splatter on the floor among the rest of the glass were it collected and remained.

Logan look down at his bare chest and found one solitary glass shred resting perfectly there in the shape of an arrow. He picked it up running his fingers over the sharp edges that tickled a little as his fingertips guided their way to the tip of the glass, exploring the surface.

Logan sat holding the arrow for what felt like an hour before sliding the edge across his wrist, puncturing the vein and watching as the blood oozed out of the deep gash and trickled down to his pants leaving dark red stains. He then sliced through his other wrist and dropped the arrow in the tub along with the rest of the glass that had shattered, where it did not blend at all. All the rest of the glass was clear and impeccable while the arrow remained bloody and tainted.

Logan, after watching emotionlessly as the blood poured from his body, leaned to the side and reached into his back pocket were he had placed the note he had written before he had laid himself down on the kitchen floor earlier that night. He put it on the side of the tub, in a small puddle of water that would cause the paper to wrinkle and crease and remain that way forever just as Logan's eyes did after he closed them and drifted off...

The maid found him the next morning and with tears in her eyes she read the note that Logan had left behind.

_If you are reading this then I left you already. For most of you I left your lives a few months ago after you found that my dad had killed Lily and made an attempt at Veronica, but now you don't have to worry. You don't have to worry because you will never have to risk running into me in the frozen food section of the grocery store, or at the fifteen year reunion, or at any other town function. To Trina, tell her that she wasn't that bad of a sister and that I did love her, for there was nothing else I could do. Tell her that she can't have my room or my poker chips, but she can have the rest. To Duncan, tell him that we had fun while it lasted, that I had always relied on him and that I never meant to hurt him. That I understand. To Veronica, tell her that I could have loved her, that maybe I did. V, life is overrated, but you make it the best it can be. Make sure that you think of me once and a while and if it's not too much to ask, go skinny dipping for me sometime. Watch out for Duncan, make sure he gets what he needs and most of all, if you do nothing else, please take care of my mom's lighter._

_And with that I will leave you with my last inspirational greeting (though inspiration I have lacked far a while now):_

_Plant impossible gardens.  
Look forward to dreams.  
Cry during movies.  
Swing as high as you can on a swingset, by moonlight.  
Cultivate moods. Take Moon baths.  
Giggle with children. Listen to old people.  
Drive away fear.  
Play with everything. Entertain your inner child.  
Build a fort with blankets.  
Get wet. Hug trees.  
Write love letters.  
**-SARK**_

_Don't be too good or too bad,  
Forever watching over you,  
Logan_


	2. Memories both Misty and Water Colored

Veronica slowly dressed, wondering why she had even bothered to put make up on. It was already streaming down her face as her tears carried it away, leaving black trails where the tears had ran and continued to run seeing that there was no longer a gentle, caring hand to wipe them away.

She zippered up the back of her dress with shaking hands. She wasn't ready to say goodbye but as such you don't get to choose the time and as is such at some point goodbyes will have to be said. She attempted to clasp the gold bracelet around her wrist but the small hook looked so marred as her vision blurred through tear filled eyes that she just couldn't fasten it and she threw it across the room and collapsed onto her bed into another wave of sorrow. 

Keith quietly knocked on the closed door. "Veronica... hunny, are you okay? You don't have to do this...I mean if this is too hard for you..., Keith's voice trailed off as Veronica rolled over to lay on her back, whispering in a choked voice, "...but I do..."

Trina had wound up on Veronica's stairs in a much similar fashion to how her brother had a year ago, in the rain, heartbroken and betrayed. Trina hadn't asked Veronica to find her brother, because unlike Logan, Trina had seen the body and she had received her closure through the form of a pale, lifeless body. Through a cold, ashen face. Through a detached, at ease expression. Instead Trina asked Veronica a different question, a bigger favor.

And in a quiet, cheerless voice, she asked Veronica to plan the funeral and all of the proceedings because she couldn't and she wanted someone who knew him, who loved him, to do it instead. Veronica, though fearing she was inadequate for the job, not because she lacked love but rather lacked the knowledge of what was needed to be planned and how to go about doing that, had hesitantly agreed

Finally after sitting quietly in the front seat as Keith patiently waited next to her, Veronica gathered the strength, and eventually the willpower to pull herself out of the car and up the steps of the small church.  
She walked down the center aisle of the church imagining how much more cheerful a building this would be if the occasion had been that of a wedding instead of a funeral, but not much time was there to imagine as she quickly reached the second pew on her left, in which she slid in and waited hanging her head in her hands.

The ceremony commenced as tissues were dabbed to eyes and arms were entangling with one another, pulling in one another for a comforting hug. Most were dressed in expensive, designer suits and skirts huddling towards the front while others, less noticed in the crowd, scattered themselves through the back of the Church, keeping mostly to themselves. The ceremony progressed and soon Veronica found herself in front of the microphone, trying hard not to cry as she looked out into the eyes of people of whom she knew but had never truly known, looking out at a bunch of strangers each with a familiar face, and choking back a sob she began

'_To say only a few words about you would be to waste my breath for I could never even touch upon who you were in just a few words for to explain you would take an eternity. Everyone sitting in this room knew you, Logan. Everyone here loved you, which is why they're hear today. To say goodbye to a friend, a brother, a nephew, a cousin, or a love. What will I remember about you? I will remember how stubborn you were, always needing to have your say and never giving in without a fight. God, you were persistent never giving up until you got what you wanted . I'll remember how you learned to love, even though you sometimes felt it was something you always lacked, something that left you hungering, but Logan, I always loved you and whether that is enough was up to you to decide. We had fun didn't we? I'll look back on the times I spent with you in a whole new light, glad that we had a chance to do this while regretting that we never had a chance to do that. I'll count your birthdays though you won't be here to celebrate them with me, far after you are gone and far after you have stopped aging. I'll look back at old pictures, when I fear I may have forgotten your face, when I fear that I can no longer see your smile or the light in your eyes. As I continue to live my life I know you'll be at my side. Watching me every second waiting for me to need you. You'll cry with me when I break down and tears and curse you because you left me here alone and when I fall in love again I know you'll you will be happy but maybe a little sad, that you didn't stay with me but instead chose to leave. I know I'll be sad when I see the beach because it always reminded me of the time that you, Lily, Duncan and I skipped the dance and played 'I never' on its shores. I know that romantic kisses in front of hotels will never be the same because it will always remind me of you. Yellow Xterras cause my heart to throb because I remember the times we spent in yours over the years we spent together, but no matter what I see or do the rest of the days of my life I know everyday I will be a little sad because it's just another day without you. And if this is the free that you wanted, then yes you are, you are 'free at last.'_

Of course it wasn't read exactly like this. Veronica stumbled on a few words, choking on her tears and once she broke down all together before she regained composure. When she finished she looked up to see the strangers' eyes so warm and friendly because they too knew how she felt and for once they were all on the same page...the last one, the last of the book that was Logan.

In the end as the attendants dispersed to go back their own separate ways, to their separate lives, as they all continued living, Trina removed her sunglasses revealing puffy, saddened eyes and offered a small smile to Veronica, the only form of a thank you that she was capable of at the moment.

THE END


	3. Memories Both Painful and Somber

Okay…I didn't plan on doing anymore parts to this fic, but there is something about it that makes me always want to add to it. So here it is… tell me what you think

_My dearest Logan, _

_It has been a long, hard 11 months. A long, hard 11 months without you. It feels so long ago that you left, saying goodbye to this world that only ever caused you pain and remorse and I wish that I could say that I hope you are happy now, at peace, but I can't. I wish I could say that I am going to heal, I am going to be okay, but I can't. I wish I could say that I could find all the pieces to my heart, that I can somehow piece it back together, but I can't. I wish I could say that I think that I am strong enough, but I can't. I wish I could say that I could easily cut myself from this world and follow after you, but yet again, I can't. _

_Oh God Logan, missing you is much harder and painful than loving you ever was, but the more hours I spend languishing at the window, hoping, waiting for you to come home, the more I start to believe that it is the combination of loving and missing you that crushes my heart. It's the love that I always had for you, waiting superfluously, unreturned and unrendered and knowing that I never again will feel it returned. I will never feel your touch upon my face, taste your kiss or see you smile again and it's these notions that blot this letter with tears, making the ink run. It is the thought of this letter. This letter that lacks a place where it can be sent in order to reach its intended recipient, which weighs too heavily in my hand and even heavier on my heart as I write these words._

_This world feels empty, lacking your presence and your love. This home feels like it is missing, neglected and alone as its rooms remain empty despite the amount of clutter. Empty in a sense that something irreplaceable and wanted remains missing, the something wanted which is you. However, the most heartbreaking of all the void spaces in all this world is her heart. A heart which is young and innocent. A heart which bears a burden that it was never meant to be a part of and is still too young to comprehend. A heart that will forever be without you and will suffer from the absence and it kills me to know that its your presence she knows is missing and I can tell that she yearns for it...for you. _

_She is beautiful Logan. I know if you had been here still you would hold her gently and let her hold your finger in her tiny palm. You would have put her to bed at night, watching as her tired, brown eyes grew heavy and finally fluttered shut. You wouldn't leave her side until you knew she was safely asleep and then you would kiss her forehead, causing her to stir a little and you would smile as she fell deeper and deeper into a sound sleep. You would have cradled her small body in your arm as you fed her a bottle, cleaning the small dribble that ran down her chin with your thumb. You would have held her above your head, as you toss her into the air, causing a smile to pour across her face and a giggle emit from her lips. You would tell her that she had her mommy's beautiful smile and how she had your big, chocolate eyes. And God Logan, you would have been proud._

_I named her Lynelle, in memory of her grandmother and out of affection for you. I know how much you loved your mother and how you cherished her memory so I named your only daughter after her. Sometimes I can hear you say her name and it brings another pang of sorrow to my heart, another tear to my cheek and the heartbroken feeling of yet another memory that you were a part of only in spirit.   
Life is hard for me and gets harder for me everyday for I know that you will never get to see her grow. I know that you won't be here for her first step or her first word, which deep down I fear will be dada and I know that that is something that I can't supply her with. You won't be here when she loses her first tooth or the first day of school. You won't be here to cheer her on at her soccer games or to kiss away booboos or scare the monsters out from under the bed and in the closet. You won't be here when she graduates high school or college. You won't be here to walk her down the aisle on her wedding day, the day only saddened on account of your absence at her side. I know you won't be here to see your grandchildren grow or to comfort them when they're sad. They'll never know you, both your daughter and your grandchildren, and that leaves me anguished. _

_I made a promise to myself and to Lynelle that I would never let you be forgotten. You always will be a part of her life and of mine, no matter how much it hurts and trust me ...it will._

_With all that love that you deserve,  
Veronica_

As soon as Veronica signed her name at the bottom of the letter, the 'i' and 'c' running together as a tear fell from her chin, Lynelle started crying. Veronica wiped another tear away that was threatening to spill over down her cheek and folded the letter up, placing it in the top drawer of the night stand. She then walked over to the bassinet and gently picked up her daughter, holding Lynelle to her chest as she bent her head to lightly brush a kiss upon the blond fuzz on the baby's head. Lynelle, in response to her mother's gentle touch, mitigated her cries eventually dying away into a distant muffle.

Veronica sat down in the soft, blue rocking chair and watched as her daughter dozed off in her arms as her body swayed back and forth. She really did look like him, even though her most distinguished feature, and the one most like her father's were hidden, tucked away by soft, pale eyelids. She was her father's daughter, she could see that already and she wondered if Lynelle's personality would mirror Logan's and as Logan's smiling face filled her thoughts she softly dozed to sleep, Lynelle still in her arms. Keith watched from the doorway at the peaceful sight of his grand-daughter asleep in his daughter's arms and it brought a tear to his own eye to know that there was someone missing, someone he couldn't see. No matter how long or hard Keith looked at the sight, however, he would never be able to see the figure kneeling next to the halted rocking chair, one hand placed on top of Veronica's and the other on the forehead of his sleeping daughter.


End file.
